


Take and Give

by HalfUnion



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), ポケモンマスターズ | Pokemon Masters
Genre: In which Lysandre is from Y and Sycamore is from who knows where. Dena doesn't, Love Confessions, Lysandre is emotionally repressed we all love to see it, M/M, Post-Event, discussions of character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfUnion/pseuds/HalfUnion
Summary: Lysandre smirked. "You are not a hard man to read.""And you aren't a hard man to find, Lysandre. You always did like waxing philosophical about the sea." He opened his eyes and stared out at the waves."It is an eternally beautiful natural wonder. But that is beside the point now. There is something on your mind that concerns me."Sycamore's gaze didn't leave the water. "Just about everything on my mind these few days has, if we're cutting to the chase."(A realization and a half are made on Pasio's shoreline.)
Relationships: Fleur-de-lis | Lysandre/Platane-hakase | Professor Augustine Sycamore
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Take and Give

Despite its artificiality, Lysandre had quickly warmed up to the Pasio shoreline since his arrival on the island. It helped that the ocean was as real as it could be, he supposed, but he found himself impressed with the biodiversity and management of the coast, and had taken to walking along it during the evenings. This evening was a clear one, the sky spotless and the breeze strong but not overwhelming. If he ever accomplished his ideal world, he thought, he would ensure that every coast took after Pasio's.

Yveltal was with him, pecking at the sand no differently than a common Fletchling would. Such activity should have come off as foolish and disgraceful. But Yveltal kept an elegance about it at all times, and so Lysandre found himself admiring it, though he could not wrap his head around its behavior.

It had been a week and a half since he had initially found himself in the island's woods, disoriented but determined to track Xerneas's movements and rebuild his ultimate weapon. And it had been a few days, four or so, since he'd encountered Professor Sycamore and his gaggle of child Trainers, and been defeated by a Xerneas Sync Paired with none other than his old friend. He hadn’t spoken to any of the Trainers he’d encountered since, though he had crossed paths in the distance with Sycamore the day prior, and been awkwardly but enthusiastically waved at.

Lysandre had simply observed him and disappeared to his own devices. Professor Sycamore was one of the chosen few in his heart, even when he’d decided that firing of the ultimate weapon was the only solution to the hardships of the world. But his conflicting ideology meant that regardless of his feelings, his dearest friend could not join him in the world that had yet to be built. And no matter where Lysandre was, that world had to be built.

Suffice to say, approaching anyone after attempting to kill them was also, well, awkward. But the boss of Team Flare would not have to make the first move. His peaceful evening stroll was suddenly interrupted by a loud noise that broke the natural ambience.

"Lysandre!"

Sycamore's voice was crystal clear, even over the waves. When Lysandre turned to look, he noticed that this was because the professor was actually closer than he'd anticipated, jogging awkwardly towards him, shoes getting caught over and over in the sand. Sycamore had his hand up in mid-wave when he completely misstepped and collapsed face down right before his friend.

"Good evening, Professor," Lysandre greeted. "Waited until the children were out of your way to make a complete fool of yourself, did you?" He knelt down and placed a hand on Sycamore's shoulder, then helped him to his feet.

"Oh, they know I'm a fool," Sycamore said. "I just do my best to be an inspiring one." He laughed and grinned as he dusted himself off.

"You're certainly managing it. You apparently have every child on Pasio wrapped around your finger."

"They're on their own paths. I just happened to pique their interest when I said I needed their help to protect the island from destruction."

"They did very well." Lysandre huffed at the reminder of his defeat, but he never gave a compliment that wasn't sincere.

Sycamore nodded. "I'll always be proud of them." Then he took a deep breath and glanced up Yveltal, who was now contentedly looping circles around the beach in the sky above them. His smile dimmed as he did so, and something changed in his eyes. Lysandre couldn't quite find a word for the expression he was seeing. Sycamore's next words were quieter, like his mouth and his mind were in two different places. "Yveltal certainly seems to be enjoying itself, hm?"

Lysandre looked up with him. "I suppose," he said. He hadn't really considered if Yveltal had been feeling anything at all since he'd arrived on Pasio. He shared in Professor Sycamore's admiration of Pokémon, and he took care of his own, but Sycamore had always been one step ahead in noticing their emotions. Looking at Yveltal now, he did see a languid peace in the flapping of its wings. Every now and again the light would catch its eyes, and the sunset would be broken up by a brief spark of blue.

"It's a beautiful Pokémon," Sycamore said. "A legendary avatar of destruction, but it's still a part of nature."

"Precisely. Nature has as much capacity to destroy life as it does to create it. There is much natural beauty in the world. Which begs me to ask…"

"Where Xerneas is, _mon ami_?"

Lysandre looked down and back at the professor. He let himself smile slightly at his friend's perceptiveness. "Yes. Purely a researcher's question borne of curiosity. I have no further plans to capture it myself."

Sycamore's face brightened again, the melancholy seemingly evaporated. "I left it back with the Trainer I brought along with Serena and Calem. I suggested the three of them let it get to know their Pokémon, though I suspect they're most likely stuffing it and themselves with sweets." He looked over to find that Lysandre's brow had furrowed.

"I hadn't expected a Pokémon professor to be encouraging rampant gluttony in the legendary avatar of life."

"That's a bit of an unfair assessment, Lysandre!"

"The legendary avatar of life that chose you to stand beside with the full force of its power is scarfing down mass-produced waste products with children."

"And enjoying every second, I bet!" Sycamore winked at him, like he always did when he'd said something he knew was both ridiculous and correct.

"Heh. Well, though I dislike the thought of that, it did choose you for a reason. I just hope its ulterior motive is not chocolate..."

A gust of wind kicked up, and the two men watched as the surf swirled and collided with the shore. Yveltal let out a cry as it followed the current, twisting playfully through the air. Professor Sycamore looked back up at the creature and waved hello. Lysandre at first looked solemnly out at the sea, his gaze focused on the crashing water, but as minutes passed he found himself looking towards Sycamore. There was something about how the wind tousled his hair—or perhaps it was the look of calm contentment on his face—that grabbed Lysandre's attention and did not let go. He could not think of what, exactly, it could be.

The wind whistled through the brush and rustled a tree nearby, and the old friends welcomed the quiet for several minutes. Lysandre was hesitant to let the moment pass. He was, for the second time in recent memory, brought back to the early days of his and Sycamore's friendship, when peaceful silences such as this one were welcome rests from the chaos of research and invention. But he'd remembered a question he needed to ask, and so he put aside his reluctance and voiced it.

"I never asked what brought you here, Professor. I'm tempted to say that you were specifically looking for me."

Sycamore placed his hand on his chin and closed his eyes. He stepped a foot back and lost a hint of the usual confidence in his stance. Lysandre recognized this as a subtle display of embarrassment. "Well, it's a gorgeous night! Certain plants only bloom when the sun sets, you know." Sycamore sighed and crossed his arms. "But yes, you're correct. I did come out here looking for you."

Lysandre smirked. "You are not a hard man to read."

"And you aren't a hard man to find, Lysandre. You always did like waxing philosophical about the sea." He opened his eyes and stared out at the waves.

"It is an eternally beautiful natural wonder. But that is beside the point now. There is something on your mind that concerns me."

Sycamore's gaze didn't leave the water. "Just about everything on my mind these few days has, if we're cutting to the chase."

Lysandre flinched a little at his words and his expression became grim. "If you've come to debate ideals again, you know exactly what I aim to accomplish and how I aim to accomplish it. I fail to see how you think another discussion is going to change my mind."

"I know that the only things that would be capable of changing your mind are time and visible results. I'm not here to argue with you. It's just…"

"It _is_ 'just'."

Sycamore kept his head turned towards the sea, but side-eyed his companion, who noted that he now seemed more sad than frustrated. The earlier melancholy had returned to his face. "It's just that I'm worried you won't allow the necessary time to pass. I won't be able to show you other possibilities if you take those possibilities away before they can present themselves."

"I understand your convictions fine, Sycamore. I think we discussed them quite thoroughly several days ago. You know that I won't go out of my way to tell you that you're wrong. But I will remind you that I spent over a decade siphoning millions upon millions of my company’s profits into philanthropic efforts and societal improvement, and managed to solve nothing. Millions and the blood of royalty, and I accomplished nothing."

"Lysandre, what you did wasn't nothing!" Sycamore cried suddenly. His melancholy was rapidly twisting into anguish. "You were remembered so fondly for having helped so many people and Pokémon, up until…"

"Until?"

The professor turned to fully face his friend. He swallowed hard and regained some of his composure. "Lysandre, tell me. After you captured Yveltal, what happened? What did you do?"

Lysandre paused to think. He lost himself in his own thoughts for a moment before responding. "Let's see...I used Yveltal's power to activate the weapon, but before I could see the results, there was this great beam of light."

"A great beam of light?"

"A great beam of light, yes. I feel like I caught the glimpse of what looked like a golden ring...and then, when I could see again, I was here."

"So you were somehow transported from underneath Geosenge Town to here on Pasio?"

"It would seem so, yes. Truth be told, I have yet to fully understand why such a thing would take place. I did not want to be questioned because I lacked definite, proven answers. I don't even know if the world I seek was achieved, hence my rush to redo the project here on the island."

Sycamore turned away for a moment and sighed. He paced around in a little circle, thinking and shifting uncomfortably. Lysandre was about to reach out to stop him from the incessant motion when he finally turned back to face him. "It will take much investigation to figure out why you were brought here. Perhaps the Trainers who know Pasio better know more. But what I do know is that you are not the same, ah, you, as the one I last spoke to years ago. Your world and this one are different."

"That would make the most sense. But why do you have such a distressed look on your face?"

"Lysandre, you don't know what happened, do you?"

"Evidently not, Professor." Lysandre shifted on his feet and crossed his arms, impatient.

"When you tried to set off the ultimate weapon in this world, you were defeated. I wasn't there to see it myself; Serena and my assistants had to fill me in on the details. You tried firing the weapon one final time, but it failed, and instead backfired on you."

Lysandre took a step back, confused. "The weapon...backfired."

Sycamore nodded solemnly. "It backfired, and you…"

There was a pause, and Lysandre's eyes widened as he began to understand. His next words were very soft and very stern. "Augustine. What are you—"

"No one saw you again, Lysandre. The entire base was trashed, just, completely destroyed, everything under the weapon was...ash."

"...Everything including me."

Sycamore nodded and looked away. "I thought you were dead, Lysandre."

There was another long pause. Lysandre sighed, taking it all in. Yveltal returned from the sky, having noticed its master's discomfort, and perched itself on a rock nearby. Sycamore's head was still turned, his eyes now closed.

Lysandre knew, of course, that constructing the ultimate weapon carried risk with it. He had taken years of meticulous research and planning to mitigate it, so he held within him a begrudging respect for those who had managed to defeat him. Nonetheless, hearing that he was essentially the dead returned to life in his friend's eyes was a difficult thing to come to terms with.

"I see," Lysandre said at last, because there was nothing else to say.

"I couldn't understand it. I was so blindsided, so convinced you were on a better path. I was so... _angry_ with myself. That I'd never discussed things with you." Sycamore sighed. "You caused those kids a whole lot of grief, you know. I felt awful that they had to clean up my mess."

"It was never your mess," Lysandre replied. "This was always my conclusion and my choice. You have my highest respect, but we were never going to see eye-to-eye."

"But I _want_ us to!" The professor's voice had risen dramatically in volume. His eyes were wide and watery. "I've always wanted us to! I thought we _did_! Because I've always understood your grief with the world, Lysandre. You're absolutely right that it is far from perfect, that the greed and selfishness of people makes others suffer. I just cannot accept that your methods are justified!"

"Professor," Lysandre started, but Sycamore interrupted him.

"I felt so foolish for not seeing it sooner. For not catching you before you went too far, for not showing you other options before you'd made up your mind. And then, then you were gone and I was never going to be able to, and all of it was just an awful memory I couldn't change." Tears pooled in his eyes, but they did not spill.

Lysandre was struck. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, what with Sycamore blubbering before him. A sudden urge stirred within him to reach out and touch him, but he doubted it was appropriate to do so when the topic at hand was Lysandre's own actions. He had never seen his friend so miserable. It hurt to watch.

"I," he said, and he had to pause to continue, because his words surprised even him. "I never wanted you to blame yourself. I think a part of me hoped that somehow you would understand. If you'd wanted to join Team Flare, of course I would have taken you with me."

"I could never," Sycamore replied, gravely.

"I know."

"And yet, even now…" The professor tilted his head back towards the darkening sky. In the fading light, Lysandre could make out the tears that he had finally given into slowly streaming down his face. "I hope that one day, you'll see where we're all coming from."

"I admire your dedication," Lysandre said hesitantly. "But you said yourself that only time will tell. Which begs the question of why you're so committed to talking things out like this anyways."

To his confusion, Sycamore laughed. "Because, Lysandre!"

"Because?"

The laughter—or perhaps it was crying?—continued. "Because you were my brightest student, an idol to all who knew you, and most importantly, my very dearest friend."

Lysandre let himself smile at his words. He took a moment to drink in the image of the professor as an utter emotional mess in front of him. "You're certainly willing to do a great deal for those you care for, aren't you?"

Sycamore smiled back, a mix of joy and pain in equal measures coloring his features. "Of course, of course. And I will never stop trying to get through to you, Lysandre! I know this world is imperfect, but I do love it. There is just so much. I love who I've become, I love the Trainers I send out on journeys, I love the cities and the forest paths."

His grin grew wider, but he seemed to be crying harder now, too, and he was becoming increasingly breathless. "I love my lab assistants. I love Pokémon! I love the memories of working with you, seeing you build the Labs into something revolutionary, discussing new breakthroughs in the cafe with you. I still value your ideals, and I always think of you when the news comes on on the Holo Caster, or when I drink coffee I know you wouldn't like. I love learning new things, and I love doing field work, and I love reading the books you recommended to me and I love being your friend and I love _you_ —"

Professor Sycamore stopped, suddenly, his previous wistful expression replaced with the shock of the realization. There was a sharp intake of breath. Lysandre, too, was startled, and the two men looked through one another. The air grew heavy and electric around them.

"Augustine," Lysandre said, lower and softer than he'd spoken in a very long while. "Did I hear that, erm, correctly—"

"Oh, my goodness."

Another beat passed.

"That would be it, wouldn't it?!" Sycamore exclaimed, more to himself than to Lysandre. He gasped and laughed again, placing a hand over his face in a half-hearted effort to hide it. "Of course it would! No one but me would give the boss of Team Flare this many chances, right? Even you yourself thought it was strange that I tracked you down like this, _mon ami_!"

"Well. Only a little."

"Oh, I am ridiculous! Those poor Trainers must think I'm insufferable. It would be _just like me_ to love you! It's just like me to fall in love at the slightest hint of passion!" He laughed again. Lysandre felt his face grow warm, despite himself.

They stood there for what felt like hours, lost in themselves, until Sycamore's laughter finally gave way. He uncovered his face, which was now stained with tears and the reddest Lysandre had ever seen it. "Oh, Lysandre, I'm so sorry. You have my deepest apologies. That just slipped out."

Lysandre's face was as blank now as it was flushed. "You just told me you love me."

Sycamore took a breath but said nothing.

"You befriended me for years, never once wavering in your polar opposite convictions to my own. You destroyed my weapon and, as I hear it, aided in the disbandment of Team Flare, and even now refuse to see things my way, and you also just told me you love me."

The professor deflated a little. "You have my sincerest apologies. Really."

"Don't apologize. I'm not finished. Do you think I expected to wallow through this world of greed and filth and wind up on an island leagues away from Kalos, with nothing but the legendary Pokémon and my wits about me, to not only find you here, but to learn that you've been living as though I've been dead for years _and_ that you _love_ _me_?!" Lysandre was shouting now, his bewilderment and the absurdity of it all and whatever that ridiculous feeling was that was pounding in his chest overwhelming him. "The future is undecided, indeed! I could have never predicted _any_ of what just came out of your mouth, Professor Sycamore!"

"Neither could I…"

It was Lysandre's turn to laugh, loudly and heartily, like a flame had just ignited inside of him. It was all ludicrous. Ludicrous and unbelievable and impossible to even imagine. When he looked back at Sycamore, the professor had crossed his arms again and seemed to be trying to smile his humiliation away.

"You do realize I lack the knowledge of how to respond to this," Lysandre said to him, speaking normally once more.

"Oh, I'm aware. I'm not really sure what to make of it myself."

"I suppose there is nothing else to do but discuss things further, then."

"As researchers," Sycamore added.

Lysandre nodded. "At an earlier hour. Over coffee."

"I would like that."

The two men looked at one another, really truly looked, and to both of their surprise, each found his own expression on the other's face. The sky was pitch black now, littered with stars, and another gust of wind rolled across the beach as they walked away from the ocean. Yveltal let out a cry, which startled them both, and Lysandre motioned for it to return to its Poké Ball. They'd just about reached the path leading back to the center of the island when, for the second time that night, the ambient sounds of nature were interrupted.

"Professor!" a girl's voice called, and Lysandre and Sycamore both recognized Serena trotting excitedly down the path towards them. Behind her trailed Calem, the other child in a hat whose name Lysandre didn't quite remember, their Pokémon, and Xerneas itself. Each Trainer's face was stained brown, clear evidence of what they'd spent that evening doing.

Sycamore struggled to rearrange himself and put on his usual air of confidence and charm. "Serena! _Bonsoir_ , everyone! What brings you all here?"

"We came down to return Xerneas to you, Professor." Serena squinted, her eyes shifting from the professor to Lysandre and back again. "I hadn't expected to see Lysandre again so soon. Am I just seeing things, or do you two look kind of...red?"

"We were just, um, walking along the beach! And it's awfully windy tonight, yes? So it's really—"

Lysandre grabbed Sycamore's arm before he could tie his tongue up further. "It is nothing, children. Pay us no mind. I am sure that Professor Sycamore will be happy to know that you have looked over Xerneas so well. Continue to train hard, and have a good evening." He motioned for Sycamore to recall Xerneas, gave a curt nod to the Trainers, and guided him away.

"Not the best when being watched by the eyes of the youth, are you, Professor?" he whispered, still clinging to Sycamore's arm.

"Thanks for taking over," Sycamore replied softly. "I'm a little out of it."

"Clearly," Lysandre said, but there was only fondness in his voice. "Augustine Sycamore, you are a brilliant man, not a graceful one."

"You can keep the grace. It looks better on you, anyways."

"I'll keep that in mind, my friend." He paused. "And, Professor?"

"Yes?"

They were now approaching a square, littered with bright streetlights. Trainers and their Pokémon bustled by, making the street as lively as any mainland city. A child stumbled past them clutching a Hoppip tenderly in her hands, while a pair of nervous lovers sauntered in the opposite direction, fingers interlocked. The warmth of the night became almost tangible. Lysandre took in the glow before pulling Sycamore a little closer.

"Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> Ooooohhh my god leave it to PerfectWorld to draw me out of an over-two-year hiatus. I really loved Give And Take and wanted to write a schmoozy follow-up! These guys are in my heart always.
> 
> I do try to keep tone and capitalization consistent to the way the series does it, I think it's very charming, but I draw the line at making "legendary" a proper noun. That's just ridiculous.
> 
> EDIT: Now with less absurd line spacing! Why did AO3 add so many line breaks 


End file.
